


Oh My Loki / Kinktober 2019 Day 1.

by The_Devious_Sinner



Series: Kinktober - 2019 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Ass Play, Ass to Mouth, Canon Related, Confessions, Day 1, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fingering, Kinks, Kinktober 2019, Loki hates liars, Master/Pet Play, Mildly Dubious Consent, My First Smut, One Shot, Orgasm, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Punishment, Reader-Insert, Roughness, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Stripping, Vaginal Fingering, Wax Play, You were asking for it, ass worship, kinktober2019, playful Loki, you're in trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-29 01:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20788298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Devious_Sinner/pseuds/The_Devious_Sinner
Summary: You were utterly fucked long before you were literally fucked.As an accomplished S.H.I.E.L.D scientist you've accepted Thor's invitation to visit Asgard and study their knowledge. It's a unique opportunity but in truth, there's only one thing that matters to you. Or one person, really, and that's Loki. A man who's haunted your dreams ever since he first appeared in New York and your endless questions about him, your insistence on meeting him, soon land you at his feet.Kinktober 2019 Smut!Prompts taken from the following list; https://i.imgur.com/y6LcVP0.jpgDay 1 / Ass Worship, Spanking, Wax Play





	Oh My Loki / Kinktober 2019 Day 1.

You were utterly fucked long before you were literally fucked. Kneeling in Loki’s royal chambers dressed in your silly grey slacks, a black blouse with S.H.I.E.L.D’s emblem on the chest pocket, and your white lab coat identifying you as a member of their science unit.

Trouble. That’s what he had called you right before he’d threatened punishment for your impudence. Or was it a promise? Oh, what did it matter when just the word ‘punishment’, spoken by him, caused your knees to weaken. Set your body alight with desire and your mind feverish considering all the possibilities.

Maybe you’d insulted him on purpose. After all, no sane person would have dared question him on the ridiculous prose written about him in Norse Mythology and risk offending the god. No one would have made the rounds and asked every member on staff about the raven-haired Prince. You had. Perhaps you weren’t sane.

Not that it mattered. Your incessant questions about his true nature, the stories spread versus reality, his life and daily habits, had done enough to make you suspect. None of it related to science, after all.

Pacing a slow circle around your kneeling body, his boots narily making a sound, Loki asks again, “What is the true purpose of your visit to Asgard?”

That question had been put to you four times over already, and each time your answer was the same. The truth, or what you convinced yourself was the truth. Your secret desires had no part in this.

“Research. I’m one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s leading scientists in alien technology here at your brother’s invitation to exchange knowledge that may grow our society.”

“You _lie_,” Loki admonishes. “On your feet, little scientist.”

The danger lurking in his tone of voice makes you astutely aware he could lash out at any given moment. You would expect it but you’d never see it coming so you rise up, cautious and deliberate. You don’t fear him, though perhaps you ought to, and find his unpredictability a thrill.

“Remove your coat,” he snarls a second command.

“Uh…”

Can’t he just rip it from your body himself? You’d prefer it, and that realization has you biting the inside of your lip. Oh, your thoughts are treacherous and you hope shielded from him. You obey nonetheless and really can’t help yourself when you ask, “What exactly do you want from me, Loki?”

Your lab coat drops to the carpet like a patch of snow sliding from a tree branch onto a grassy field. Every square inch of the room covered in rich, emerald greens with golden accents. Not surprising—they are his colors. Those of a venomous serpent engulfed by wealth.

Slender fingers thrust into your hair and grab you by the roots, jerking your head back. Loki hisses below your ear, “That’s ‘Prince Loki’ to you, or better yet, ‘my King’. Seeing how my brother isn’t on Asgard right this moment and I deserve your worship.”

“Wouldn’t that make you the Reagent Lord instead?” Rather than Trouble, he should have called you a Fool.

You wince when Loki tugs your hair a second time and almost lose your balance. “No more questions for you, mortal. You will address me as I see fit and you will feel honored I allow you to speak to me at all. Be thankful.”

“Thank you, my King,” you correct immediately while the sting in your scalp brings tears behind your eyes.

“Or perhaps I shall have you call me ‘Master’, would you like that? It has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?” he taunts with complete disregard for the answer you’ve already given.

Slithering deadly and silent, he lets go of your hair and circles you once more until you meet his eyes. Foreboding but with the tiniest hint of amusement. You can’t be sure of his intentions. You’re not even convinced he’s angry so much as he is eager to play a game for which the prize is you.

He continues, “I don’t believe I was wrong in my observations that your kind craves subjugation. Already you’re so obedient. Go ahead, pet, call me Master. See how it tastes on that far too loose tongue of yours.”

Every word dropped at your feet curls your toes and causes a chain reaction that accumulates in the pit of your stomach. The pleasant kind that flutters and hungers.

“Y-yes, Master…” the second you utter his new title something ignites in your core, made all the worse by the toothy grin that splits his face.

If he could know your thoughts, he’d follow them to the memory that surfaces in your mind—the first time you saw him. You blanch when a smirk plays on his lips and he echoes on cue, “Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state?”

Maybe he does know every secret lingering in the furthest reaches of your mind.

Everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D had found his speech appalling and the world had been mortified. Not you. Every syllable had touched a forbidden longing inside of you, a desperate urge to surrender immediately. Almost as if it were instinct.

Oh hell, alright, yes, your natural state but you’ll be damned if you’re going to admit to any of that. That was your secret, and the warped state of your mind was your problem. Nothing for him to know.

“No, Master,” you bite out in response.

“No?” Loki clacks his tongue and shakes his head, clearly disappointed. “I see you have yet to learn your lesson about lying. Strip, my pet.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks even as you stare at him, mouth wide open. Are you shocked by his demand or is it the fact that he has actually spoken words you’ve previously only dreamed of hearing? Do you truly want this or have your fantasies been just that—something enticing to keep you satisfied in lieu of having any sort of dating life?

No, you are a twisted being who has come here to dance with the devil but the hand he offers has you wavering.

Seeing your hesitation, Loki takes a step toward you. His chilled breath whips across your face, cooling the fluster in your cheeks. “Shh, shh, don’t be shy now. You were doing so well,” he encourages and wandering, green eyes travel down your body.

Quasi reluctant, you fiddle with the first button of your blouse. Swallowing the small lump in the back of your throat while you burn underneath his intense gaze. You’re not just removing your clothes, you’re shedding armor. A mask carefully crafted for you to play a role—the scientist—and hide your true intentions.

A shiver runs down your arms when the fabric of your blouse slides past your skin and onto the floor. At least you were smart enough to grab a decent bra before coming here, rather than your go-to, entirely unflattering but oh-so comfortable white sports bra. You thank your subconscious decision as you try to ignore the fact that you’re now standing semi-topless before the god of mischief and lies.

That’s one piece of clothing removed but you delay going further. As much as you’ve wished for a moment like this, you’d never expected to feel so nervous and vulnerable at the same time.

Loki says nothing but proves his impatience by hooking a finger through one of the belt loops on your trousers and he yanks you into his arms. Oh, you could easily drown in those eyes of his no matter the danger they spell, and you hope a kiss might be imminent when his mouth inches closer. Instead, his teeth find your neck and you yelp while two firm hands seize a hold of your ass.

“Too slow. Only I get to do the teasing here, pet. My realm, my room, my rules,” he warns against your skin and spanks your ass once.

Startled by his actions, you just stand there and let him rip the button from your trousers. Tug the zipper down none too gently and within seconds, your shoes and pants come off to join the rest of your discarded clothing. Leaving you in your undergarment feeling beyond exposed.

“Hmm. It’s an improvement,” Loki observes as if he’s judging an artwork or a piece of prime rib cut, and what might have passed for a compliment sounds hollow in your ears until he adds, “But not enough.”

“M-master?” you stammer though you’re not sure what you’d ask him even if he allowed questions.

Perhaps what he intends to do next but Loki’s actions speak volumes. Two fingers curl around the straps of your bra to slide down your arms with a gentler touch than you expect, and you’ve never known a man to be so skillful at unclasping the hooks on your back.

Your breasts are on display and Loki traps a nipple between his fingers. Pinching, twisting. Harder while he watches you with curiosity, waiting for you to cry out. A battle of wills you’re not keen on losing but when your little pebble starts to throb from agony, you hiss through gritted teeth.

He smiles a foul smirk. “Are you ready yet to confess?”

_What?_ With the turn your conversation and interaction has taken, you’ve completely forgotten how you came to be here in the first place. “Confess?”

The flat of his hand strikes the breast not yet tormented by his touch and heats your skin. “Your true reason for visiting Asgard and seeking out my presence.”

Oh, that. Again and still. You provide the same answer as before, “Research. As one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s leading scientists in alien technology, I’m here at your brother’s invitation.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Without warning, his hand slips inside your panties and it’s only then that you realize they’re thoroughly soaked. How and when the fuck had that happened? Somewhere between your thoughts about the things you’d let him do and his demand you strip for him, surely.

His index finger teases your slit and curls up as the pad below his thumb presses down on your mound and begins stimulating you. Loki leans forward and trails his lips from your jawline to your neck. Deft fingers stroking you agonizingly slow and he whispers, “Or is this the real reason you came here?”

“Nnyes, no, yes… Master…” you fumble with your words as the heat spreads through your body. Wanting to grip his shoulders to hold yourself steady but you don’t dare without his permission.

It’s too surreal. Here you are, a confident and accomplished woman who has often been accused of being too independent in relationships but Loki has you calling him Master. Loki has you heeding his commands. Loki makes you obey and you’ve never felt more right.

Hungry lips suck on your flesh until he withdraws his hand and takes a step back. Purposefully and you see his tongue taste your juices on his fingers. “Delightful,” he groans. “Turn around.”

The little praise he offers has you blushing a deep crimson and you don’t wait to turn, even if you’re unsure why he wants you to. Then you feel it. His breath fanning along your thighs and the outline of your panties, causing you to shiver. Fingers that bunch the fabric together between your cleft to expose your cheeks to the cool air. Lithe kisses planted against your flesh.

You thank every omniscient power in existence for the fact that you had showered right before you’d accepted the summons to his chambers.

Loki sits on one knee behind you and strong hands grab your hips. His tongue draws deliberate, slow circles against your skin and his touch is intoxicating.

When his hands part your cheeks, instinct urges you to clench. As if this is wrong, as if he shouldn’t go there and you’re not sure why he’d want to but you resist. Unwilling to cut this moment short or risk disappointing him. With his face buried against the fabric of your panties, he hums, contently, and the vibrations tickle your center. You’ve never felt more vulnerable than you do now.

No man has ever shown this much interest in your backside beyond the occasional slap or squeeze, but here sits the most dangerous one you’ve ever known and he’s taking all of you in. His tongue flicking against the cotton trapped between your cheeks, licking a trail from your core to the top of your ass, and his hands knead your flesh with such vigor you’re certain there will be bruises later.

“Such an alluring creature you are,” he sighs and takes in a sharp breath. Arms wrap around your middle and he continues nuzzling your ass in an almost affectionate way. “Is that why you sought me out, hmm? A temptress to bring the god of mischief to heel?”

“No, Master… I wouldn’t dare,” you admit truthfully and despite your vulnerability, evidence of your arousal is starting to trickle through the fabric of your underwear.

It seems he can’t get enough of you. With each passing second and every exhale he releases between the fingers and thumbs that keep you spread, a new level of confidence begins to blossom inside of you. There’s an acceptance to his act that’s invigorating.

“Perfect.” Loki sounds satisfied when he at last gets up again and spins you back around. You’re practically beaming but he’s quick to crush that smile when he reminds you, “But I do believe I’d promised you punishment. Rightfully deserved, I may add, as you’ve still not given me the whole truth.”

“But I have!” your protest is instantaneous to defend yourself, or perhaps protect your secret, and Loki’s laughter mocks you.

“No, my dear pet, you haven’t.”

He walks away and gets comfortable on a wingback chair a few feet from his bed, then snaps his fingers at you. “Over here. I want you to position yourself sideways across my lap. Face down. Support yourself on your hands and toes.”

You stand frozen in place facing a moment of truth and you need to decide—do you truly want this and can you trust him? Are you certain that you’re safe with him and that he won’t cause you any permanent damage? There are a dozen and more reasons not to go anywhere near him but here you are and, curious as it might be, you do feel safe and secure in his presence. Especially after all the devotion he’s just shown your ass—you need more.

Locking eyes with him, you can see his calm demeanor as he waits for you to decide. As if he too knows that this is the point of no return and he’s offering you a last chance to walk away.

You step forward. This is right and the glint in his eyes beckons you closer until your body drapes across his lap exactly as instructed. The position isn’t too comfortable and nervous anticipation stiffens your pose until Loki’s hand begins soothing you.

He strokes your hair, caresses down your back and trails feathered touches across your spine. You sigh blissfully, until his fingers dig into one of your meaty globes and he squeezes, hard. Dragging his nails. You feel him shift underneath you and then his teeth pierce your flesh.

“Hrngh,” you wince but he’s barely even begun and doesn’t provide further warning either.

The flat of his hand comes down hard on your right ass cheek and you jolt forward across his lap from the impact.

“Hold steady, pet,” Loki tells you, “This is going to hurt.”

Probably a lot more than you’re used to which both frightens and arouses you. You recover your position and brace just as Loki’s hand comes down against your other cheek. That’s two and unintentionally you start keeping count.

What was happening to you? Just last month you were on the cover of Science Magazine, lauded for your achievements and groundbreaking research. Today your naked body lies folded over Loki’s lap as he paints your ass red.

_Three, four._ A burning sensation spreads through your flesh but it’s not entirely unwelcome. The sound is worse, dreadfully obscene like in those porn videos your college roommate used to watch, yet not enough to quell the lust that’s tightening in your belly.

_Five, six._ A dull pulsing builds up beneath your skin to accompany the heat and you release a muted sigh. There’s a satisfaction to what you’re experiencing, a modicum of pain that heightens your arousal. You can handle this, you think, until Loki changes tactics.

You can’t count to seven or eight because suddenly, he’s spanking you in rapid succession. From the back of your thigh up across your ass before he repeats the same against the other cheek. Marking you. Burning you. The pain like sharp needlepoints pricking your flesh. Your entire backside is on fire and you choke out a moaning sob.

“Shh, pet. Nearly there,” Loki’s soothing words only faintly register in your mind. “You’re doing so well.”

They’re of little comfort when his hand comes down again and you’re certain he’s nearing twenty now. Again repeating that same pattern of multiple, alternated strikes across your ass. You squeeze your eyes shut and clench your jaw. He hits your backside again and you hear it ringing in your ears.

You feel sore, spent, weak. The strain of your position burns in your calves, leaves your arms trembling but you won’t ask him to stop. You can’t. Not when it’s your own fault that you’re here, and maybe it’s time you confess. Loki seems to think it is.

After delivering one final wallop to your searing flesh, he asks, “Last chance, pet. What is your true purpose for visiting Asgard?”

“You are!” you cry out in frustration, almost angry with him for the fact he won’t let the matter go.

He chuckles, calm fingers petting your hair. “That part I already knew. I want to know why, hm? Who sent you and to what end?”

“I sent me! When Thor made the offer, I jumped on it because of you! You haven’t left my thoughts for a second since the invasion of New York and then they brought you aboard the helicarrier but I didn’t have the clearance to meet you myself, to figure out…”

You’re positively rambling and everything catches up to you at once. The excuses you made back then to arrange a meeting with the ‘prisoner’ and all the dreams you’ve had about him. The fantasies you’ve entertained during cold and lonely nights. The endless amount of times you’ve sat arguing with yourself, shaming yourself for being so drawn to this terrible man. Asking yourself what the hell was wrong with you and questioning your own morals. Your sanity gone out the window.

“I needed to see you, meet you in person. I don’t know to what end but I just did! That’s all!”

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears. You’re frustrated, angry, aching and hungering. You need him to say something, anything, and more than that, you need him to touch you again. You need him to punish you for wanting him so badly and you need him to make your darkest fantasies come true. Through everything, you’re still mad with lust, yearning for release, and proof of your arousal is dripping down your slit.

Finally you hear him exhale a long, drawn out breath and a smile lingers in his voice when he says, “I’m impressed, pet. That was more honest than I had expected and I accept your explanation. Will you accept a final challenge?”

“C-challenge? Master?”

“To atone and as a reminder to never lie to me again. I promise it won’t be as awful as you may think.”

You can’t even begin to think what else he might have in store for you but the pulsing between your thighs has you nodding before hesitation takes hold. “Yes, I accept your challenge.”

Loki leans in and you feel a tender kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Recover your position, pet.”

Easier said than done but you manage it while his touch leaves you completely. Again he shifts, this time to take an item from a side table though you can’t see what it is.

Something drips onto the small of your back and you almost bite your tongue to keep from screaming out. Liquid and hot, and tears spring to your eyes. It takes all of your willpower not to jump up and wipe whatever it is off. You smell the essence of something sweet, flowery, and think perhaps the substance on your back is scented and heated oil.

“What you’re feeling is the wax from a candle spelled especially for this occasion. It will hurt, it will burn, but it won’t cause permanent damage,” Loki corrects your assumption and provides further instruction.

“Your challenge is to remain perfectly still no matter what I do. If you move, the wax will creep further along your back and reheat itself. The pain will increase each time you do so. Do you understand, my pet?”

“Y-yes… Master.” Your voice is no more than a small whisper.

It does hurt. You’ve never had a hot poker pressed to your skin before but you’re certain this is almost as bad. Worse is the small of your back being such a sensitive area for you and while the wax antagonizes every nerve, it doesn’t hinder the budding arousal in your core. You want to press your thighs together, feel some friction and stimulation, but you don’t dare move.

This is pure torture and it takes strength you no longer possess to keep from squirming. Surely Loki must know this is driving you crazy, and you almost feel a second wave of anger over the fact that he’s not doing anything. He’s even stopped stroking your hair.

“Tell me the sort of thoughts you’ve been having about me, my little scientist,” Loki hums in quiet delight and at last you feel his touch again.

His hand cups your sex and squeezes gently, applying just a hint of pressure. Massaging and stroking along your slit but it’s not enough for you.

“I… uhm…” Damn it’s hard to think with his hand between your thighs and the wax on your back waging war between pleasure and pain. Not to mention the embarrassment you feel trying to give voice to your fantasies. “I—I’ve thought about you uh…”

“Doing this?” His middle finger dips inside to meet your warmth.

You’re soaked and more than ready, and Loki curls his finger up to tease the small bundle of nerves most desperate for his attention. You cry out immediately—it feels so damn good—and arch your back. Causing the wax to spread and an agonizing jolt of pain shoots through your body, just as the first wave of unbridled ecstasy washes over you.

Hell. You have a climax clawing at your insides, eager to be unleashed and you want to ride his finger—it’s still not enough.

“Hrngh, myes… that… more, Loki… m-my Master,” you mumble almost as if you’re intoxicated. Delirious with want and pure bliss fogging up your mind. The pain should bother you but it’s no match for the sheer volume of pleasure that’s taken over.

Loki slides a second finger inside and starts thrusting. Steady, deep, controlled. Crooking his digits to stroke along your slick upper wall, playing with your little bud. His thumb presses to your other opening, nestled between your searing ass cheeks.

“Were you hoping to serve the god of mischief? To put yourself at the mercy of the man who almost destroyed your precious earth, my sweet pet?” he taunts and hooks his thumb inside your tight passage.

You don’t object to the sudden intrusion or his assumption, you can’t. You’re a drooling and feverish mess hanging over his lap like a ragdoll. Locks of hair stick to the sweat on your forehead. Tears of joy, pain, and relief slowly run down your cheek. You’re wanting to thank him and tell him that he’s right but all you can do is mewl and sigh as his fingers start pumping faster.

His thrusts rock your body but through the haze in your mind, you discover that if you lie still and just accept him, let him do all the work, the wax lingers only in that one excruciating spot. It’s better this way and you’re done hiding or feeling ashamed of your own desires. What did it matter anymore what anyone might think, or what this might say about you, when you had a fucking god playing with your body and coaxing you to heights you’ve never experienced before.

“I wanted you to take me with you…” you start to confess everything in full. “Take me as your own, bring me into your world… Let me please you, give myself over to your every demand. Feel you inside of me and all around me in ways I’ve never wanted any other man before… I long to be yours, Master. You ruined me the day you set foot on my planet.”

Unbeknownst to you, Loki smiles and you feel his lips on your shoulder blade, your arm, and against the back of your neck. “Thank you, my pet. Now prove it and let acceptance guide your way. There is nothing wrong with the things you desire. Let your beauty shine by embracing your true nature. You are magnificent.”

You nod, at a loss for words. While every ounce of your body is hurtling toward an orgasm and has grown oblivious to the pain, you can’t help but feel the warmth and emotion swell in your heart. It’s as if he understands all the things you’ve struggled with, everything that has led you to this moment, and wants to set you free. Making you strip, teasing your body, spanking and tormenting you. All to force the truth to the surface and help you accept this part of yourself.

Immense relief you didn’t know you were in need of soothes your entire being. You smile through tears and drawn out moans, and give in to every experience dominating your body. All the pleasure knotted up in your belly, causing you to tremble and gasp for air when your climax announces itself.

“My sweet, beautiful pet,” Loki’s unexpected affection close to pushes you over the edge and you feel him nibble at your earlobe. “Come for me, honor your Master.”

That’s all you need to let go. Your toes stretch and curl, and every muscle in your body tightens. You clench around his fingers and arch your back—wax be damned—before you scream your release. Shuddering in his lap and there is no pain to speak of. All you can feel is pure bliss coursing through your veins, tingling in your toes and at your fingertips. Rocking your body and dazing your mind. You see stars before your eyes and transcend to a plane where only you and he exist.

You’re lost to the world. All you can feel is yourself drift, more satisfied and complete than you’ve ever been in your life. You chuckle, stupefied, high on pleasure, when you consider this to be some sort of revelation. You’re not a woman who believes, or grants poetic meaning to any experience, but every part of you he’s touched sings with delight.

After waiting for your orgasm to subside, Loki lifts you in his arms, bridal style, and carries you to his bed. You barely notice but sigh feeling beyond content. He settles you on your side, then gently rolls you onto your stomach as if you were the most fragile thing he’s ever touched.

A piece of cloth brushes down your back. Somewhere in the distance, you hear the clink of a clay bottle and then you feel the soothing, cool effects of some type of liquid. Tender, massaging hands rub the substance into your skin and you hum quietly.

“A special ointment,” Loki explains, “created by our healers to alleviate any burns and discomfort.”

“Mmm,” you mumble, floating in and out of consciousness, “the pain makes you real… I need it to remember.”

He chuckles, settling his weight next to you and he teases a lock of hair from your forehead. “My darling pet. I can’t have you roam the palace with a sore backside for the next few days. Fun as that might be for me.”

You can’t argue, only flashing him a drunken smile and then at last his lips find yours. Cautious and tender at first but you’re quick to welcome his tongue. To taste him and drink him in, and you turn onto your side. A tired arm draping over his shoulder to pull him in, play with his hair. Those beautiful, raven-black locks. Exhausted as you are, you still can’t get enough of him but Loki breaks away.

“Easy, pet. This was only the beginning,” he promises and eyes dark with lust meet your own. His vow chases away any fear that this had been all you were ever going to get from him, and renewed arousal stirs when he adds, “Take a few minutes to recover, you’re going to need it.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first year taking on Kinktober and, along with other stories in this series, my first time attempting real smut, especially from a Reader perspective. I hope it's been enjoyable. Please, feel free to comment and I welcome any feedback that helps me improve my work. Thank you for reading. <3
> 
> A follow-up/Part 2 can be found here; [His Darling Pet(s).](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926184)


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